


The Indomitable Submissive

by 0mniessence



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, F/F, Femslash, Light BDSM, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8543836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0mniessence/pseuds/0mniessence
Summary: Many Dominants have tried to claim Root as their Submissive, but Root will kneel before no one, and does not plan to. Ever. After being arrested for treason against the United States for stealing The Machine for herself, Root finds herself held against her will in the psych ward and forced to contend with various Dominants that have tried to get her to break. The latest one is Robert Sierra, who is accompanied by security personnel Sameen Shaw. Neither Root nor Shaw are big fans of the Soulmate tattoo mandates, but the universe did them in the moment they spoke those first fateful words.





	1. Chapter 1

“Have you come to punish me some more, … Master?” the submissive named Root mockingly inquired, accompanying her query with a coy smile and a subtly derisive glint to her eye.

The men in black suits that stiffly entered the room, followed by security personnel right behind them, found her as she was left since the last claiming attempt – hands tied behind her back with a coarse rope and feet grounded with ball and chain of a concentrated density twenty times Root’s muscle mass.

“Do you really find all this so necessary? I can only do real harm with a computer,” Root said with an affected sigh, looking deliberately pitiful. “Or a gun. But I have neither in this psych ward.”

“If we had wanted your opinions on our methods, Root, we would have left a suggestion box,” one of the men in suits, John Reese, said.

“Does this mean I can get a pencil?” Root asked with a playful smile.

“Absolutely not, Ms. Groves,” another one of the men in suits, Harold Finch, responded.

Root was being held in a white ward with nothing but padded walls, a toilet, and a mattress - the maximum-security room in the New York Psychiatric Institute.

She was the nation’s most wanted offender because of crimes of treason against the United States for stealing one of the most powerful ASI’s ever invented and running the risk of exposing the existence of The Machine to the global public. Prior to her apprehension, she worked as a technical specialist on the project that created The Machine, of which Mr. Harold Finch was the principal investigator and lead.

When the team came to agreement with the government that the capabilities of The Machine were far too dangerous to risk implementing in the country, Root was the member that was most upset with the decision, and chose to do something about it. Her blood, sweat, and tears had gone into the development and completion of The Machine project, and she would be damned if she did not see The Machine go online.

 _Fine_ , she thought. _If the government doesn’t want to use The Machine, then I will take it for myself._

Before the team disbanded and the project officially shut down, she used her admin credentials to enter the pilot building that housed The Machine. She modified the code of the machine in order to make it bio-compatible and downloaded the essence of the machine into a micro-drive implant that she then proceeded to insert into her head – clearly, she overestimated her tolerance to acute pain, as she was later found lying face down in a pool of her own blood after her attempt at a self-performed brain surgery.

By the time the doctors figured out what she did, the bio-compatible micro-drive had already merged with her neural network and it became physically impossible to separate The Machine from Root without killing her, and whether her crime deserved the death penalty remained to be seen at that point in time.

“Aww, not even the rubber, bendable ones? Those are so much fun,” Root said, scrunching her nose cutely. “And nowhere pointy enough to cause any serious damage. I promise, no more blood and gore. Sorry about what you saw at the pilot facility, by the way… Silly miscalculation on my part.”

Rather than the death penalty – they could not eliminate her, not until they found out how to release the core of programming of the machine from her consciousness – the government chose to demote her status in society from Dominant to Submissive.

In this society, such an action was considered one of the cruelest punishments to inflict upon an individual. To assign a person a designation that went against their birthright and nature – born Dominant or born Submissive – was dooming that person to live the life of a misfit.

The nature of Dominants was to be commanding, confident leaders and guides. The nature of Submissives was to be supporting, servicing followers and nurturers. The personalities of Dominants and Submissives covered a wide spectrum, but the nature of each designation ultimately came down to their inclination to service or lead.

One was born with the mark of a Submissive (the twin pillar tattoo) or a Dominant (the triangular dome tattoo), as well as, of course, the first words that one’s soulmate will say to them when they meet inscribed on their skin.

Not everyone met their soulmate in their lifetime, though. It is a romantic notion to believe that the one destined for you will find their way to you one way or another, and you to them, but the number of people that found their soulmate was very evenly split: only about 50% of the global population. Most people tended to settle down with the next best option, and several live choosing to ignore they even have a soulmate tattoo imprinted on their arm. But there are others, the dreamers, that spend their lives alone in hopes of not having any obstacles in the way of forming a relationship with their soulmate once they find them.

For the most part, though, soulmate tattoos were just a fact of life, just like the Dominant and Submissive designations, and most people didn’t pay them too much mind. It was exciting, though, to hear the stories of couples that actually WERE soulmates.  

Harold cleared his throat. “At any rate, Ms. Groves, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Robert Sierra. He is a world-renowned Dominant trainer and educator. He is the author of several books on how to be a good and respectful Dominant to Submissives and Society, and I believe he can help you adjust to your new lifestyle as a Submissive.”

Robert Sierra stepped forward and with a charming smile introduced himself. “Good evening, Ms. Groves. As Mr. Finch said, my name is Robert Sierra and I am most well-recognized for my knowledge of the Dominant/Submissive dynamic and helping educate the world on how it can best work to benefit society.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sierra—“

“Please, call me Robert, or Rob, if you’d prefer.”

“—Mr. Sierra. I would shake your hand, but as you can see, they are otherwise preoccupied. I hope you’ll excuse my rudeness,” Root said sweetly. “Of course, I wouldn’t be against the removal of the restraints so that we may properly meet and greet.”

Robert laughed good-naturedly. “You’re a cunning one, Ms. Groves. Well, Root, may I call you Root?”

“I rather like Ms. Groves coming from you,” Root said with a grin.

Robert nodded his head in acquiescence. “I understand. I apologize if I overstepped my boundaries at such an early stage in our relationship.”

“Relationship,” Root repeated, clucking her tongue playfully. “That’s a curious word choice… Why don’t we cut to the chase, Mr. Sierra? Are you here to claim me?”

Robert looked taken aback by Root’s bluntness.

Root took his shocked pause as confirmation and inwardly cringed, then directed a semi-playful, semi-incredulous glare in Finch’s direction.

“Really, Harold?” Root asked with another exaggerated sigh. “ _Another_ one? I think I’ve lost count of the amount of people you’ve brought here to try and take a shot at claiming me. How many times do I have to tell you? I won’t submit. To anyone. Ever.”

“Ms. Groves,” Harold began, fiddling with the glasses at his nose bridge. “Mr. Sierra is the most talented and respected Dominant in the world. If he cannot mold you into the Submissive you are now meant to become, then there is no one else I can think of to help you.”

“I don’t want help, Harold,” Root said honestly, fidgeting in her seat against the restraints. “I just want to be a Dominant. It’s who I am. I’m not a meek Submissive. No offense to any Submissives in the room.”

No one moved. Hmm. Guess there were no Submissives in the room, then.

Robert spoke up, “Ms. Groves, if you allow me to begin the claiming process, one of my first lessons to you will be that D/s relationships are not about strength, or weakness, or who has the upper hand. It is a symbiotic relationship founded on mutual love and respect.”

“Except one half of the pair has the right to hit the other, while the other can’t fight back,” Root noted with an innocent cock of the head. “Seems rather unbalanced to me.”

Robert shook his head. “In order to understand the punishment system, you must get into the mindset of a Submissive, Ms. Groves. Submissives accept punishment from their Dominants when they understand that they have misbehaved, and if you speak to any well-adjusted Submissive, you will understand that they are happy to bend to the will of their Sir or Madam, because they trust the judgment of their Dominant. Trust is the essence of a relationship. If you would allow me—“

“No, thank you,” Root said, faux-saccharine smile. “But I suppose my refusal won’t matter. I’ve been handed to every Dominant that Harold has brought into this room, and they have all tried to break me, but I never kneeled for them. So, go ahead. Take me where you will, gag me, blind me, slap me, whip me, burn me… I don’t care what you do. At this point, I’ve been through it all, and I haven’t kneeled to anyone, and I don’t plan to.”

Robert exchanged concerned glances with Harold. “I’m afraid it is as you say, Ms. Groves. I am going to be forced to extract you from this room if you do not comply willingly. Your punishment for treason has been very clear, and we are trying to make your transition as easy and humane as possible. We have had very few cases where a Dominant or Submissive has been forced to switch designations. We hope your transition will be a successful one.”

“This is so humiliating,” a disgruntled Root said with gritted teeth.

Reese spoke up, “The visitation time is almost up. We must relocate her now.”

Robert turned to Root. “You may not see it now, but I think you and I will be good for each other.”

Root batter her eyelashes at him. “Cute, but… I don’t think that just because our names start with R, it means we’ll work out.”

Harold rolled his eyes. “You will get used to her sense of humor. Ms. Groves possesses a peculiar and gifted mind.”

Robert nodded, looking at his watch. “It’s time. Ms. Shaw, Mr. Reese, please secure Ms. Groves so that we may take her to the vehicle.”

One of the security personnel, a petite brunette woman that hadn’t stood out much to Root, stepped forward and began to undo the ball and chain shackled to Root’s lower calf. Reese began undoing the ropes that tied Root’s hands.

The other men in the room began speaking with other.

Root smiled outwardly, even though she was inwardly dismayed at having to go through the claiming process once again. It was painful, having to resist the aggressive advances of other Dominants, not to mention degrading, considering she was a Dominant herself. She learned by rote that a Submissive’s nature is to serve their Dominant, and that it is their natural inclination to want to take care of and please their Sir or Madam. She could give less of a hoot about anyone, honestly.

She stared down at the petite woman bent down, unshackling the ball and chain. “Well, don’t you look adorable kneeling before me like that?”

Shaw stiffened.

Root arched a brow, curious at the woman’s reaction.

“Oh, God, no,” Shaw hissed out, semi-stoically, semi-horrified.

Root’s ears perked up, and her eyes shone in eagerness and amusement for the first time since her body was found lying in the pool of her own blood.

“Why, hello, there, Miss Soulmate,” she said huskily.

All heads snapped to look down at Root, then followed her gaze down to Shaw, who released a tiny “Fuck” that was not as quiet as she had hoped when everyone was shocked into silence.

“Would now be a good time for me to ask you to unbutton your shirt?” Root asked sweetly.

“Buy a girl a cup of coffee first,” Shaw muttered out with attitude.

Root’s eyes shone slightly brighter. This “Shaw” character was interesting. And apparently, her soulmate.

A light bulb went off in her head.

“Harold,” she began, turning to him with conviction. “As you can see, I’ve met my Submissive. Surely, this is grounds for returning me my rightful designation, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harold exchanged looks between Root and Shaw, and appeared troubled.

“It could have been, except for one technicality,” Harold spoke slowly. “Ms. Shaw, you see, she—“

“I’m a Dominant,” Shaw deadpanned.

Root’s eyes widened. “But… if we’re soulmates… how?”

Soulmates were strictly Dominant/Submissive pairings. It was a proven trend that D/D and s/s relationships did not work out, and never in recorded history had there even been a soulmate pair with the same designation.

“We’re not sure yet,” Shaw clung to the hope that it was all a cruel mistake. The Indomitable Submissive… her _soulmate_? She had hoped she would turn out to be one of those people that never met their soulmate. She wanted no part in that “match made in the stars” bullshit.

Now she was faced with the real possibility of getting stuck with a disobedient brat, if they forced her to take Root in.

“Either way,” Shaw continued. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Mr. Sierra will claim you. All I’m doing… is transporting you to a vehicle.”

Root seemed to droop imperceptibly at Shaw’s refusal of her. Whether it was disappointment or the sting of rejection, she couldn’t be sure.

No one seemed to notice Root’s momentary despondency, before the girl plastered on an unaffected smile, except for Harold.

Harold had worked with Root for years; happy, bubbly, untouchable Root. Despite the hurt he experienced at her betrayal to the project and the country, he still recalled the late nights with her figuring out the programming codes, the field trip to various site locations to place cameras for The Machines, the troubleshooting frustrations whenever they were stuck in infinite loops.

Root never seemed to show interest in anything but her work, or anyone but The Machine.

But Ms. Shaw just managed to slap that look on Root’s face – that look she always got when she messed up a code with some typo in a line. A misstep.

Harold wasn’t sure but…

“Actually, Mr. Sierra,” Harold said. “I know we had an arrangement, but given the recent developments, I hope you’ll understand.”

Robert turned to Harold, confused.

“I would like Ms. Shaw to exercise her claim on Ms. Groves,” Harold declared.

“Say what now,” deadpanned Shaw, still bent down before Root.

Root’s head shot up to watch Harold, eyes narrowed in caution.

Robert looked to Shaw in disbelief, as if Shaw had just pick-pocketed his wallet or something. He appeared threatened.

“But, Ms. Groves’ case is particular,” Robert said, after a pause. “I am certain Ms. Shaw is very competent, but I believe Ms. Groves should be handled by a professional, such as myself.”

“Mr. Sierra,” Harold began apologetically. “There is much we don’t understand about soulmates. We have been faced with the unique opportunity to have Ms. Groves be dominated by her soulmate. If there is anyone in the world that could do it, shouldn’t it be the person that the universe chose specifically for her?”

Root softened for a couple of seconds, before re-schooling her expression into a smirk. “Don’t be getting all mushy on me now, Harold.”

“Ah, hi, yes, hello, excuse me,” Shaw interrupted. “Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

“We don’t choose who we love, sweetie,” Root said teasingly.

“I don’t want to hear anything come out of you,” Shaw snapped testily.

“Ooh, giving me orders already? You certainly move fast,” Root said jokingly. “They weren’t kidding about the lesbians.”

Shaw looked at her incredulously. “Yea, that, too. I’ve never felt any attraction to… women. How…?”

Reese piped up, “The universe knows you better than you know yourself, Shaw.”

“No one asked you,” Shaw bluntly retorted.

Reese cocked his head in acknowledgment.

“Certainly, same-sex pairings are also fairly… uncommon,” Harold remarked. “Our society may not yet be quite as accepting, but if you are indeed soulmates, who is anyone to argue against fate?”

“Yea, uh, no,” Shaw said. “I refuse. I can still exercise my free will, right? That still a thing? I don’t want to be a Dominant.”

“If I can have Shaw, I’ll go quietly,” Root blackmailed.

In the minute that everyone found themselves arguing over the subject matter, Root had already hatched a plan on how to use Shaw as a means to achieve her own ends – freedom. The shorter woman certainly seemed opposed to the idea of both soulmates and D/s relationships, which benefited Root greatly. She wanted no part of that either. If she went with Shaw, under the pretense of submission, she could execute step one: get out of this hellhole.

Following her escape, she could execute step two: regain her Dominant status. With The Machine on her side, that shouldn’t be too hard. The Machine was all seeing and all knowing. She would tell her where to go.

“Then everybody better wear ear plugs, because I’m not doing it,” Shaw once again stated.

“Ms. Shaw, I am your employer,” Harold said. “It would behoove you to be aware, that I have control of your contract, and can terminate you at any time.”

“Fine by me, I got other skills, can just as quickly snag another position,” Shaw said confidently.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“I will give you a raise.”

“How much we talking?”

“10%.”

“30%.”

“Now, that is just—15%.”

“25%.”

“Ms. Shaw, I thought—fine, 20%.”

“Great, that’s what I was going for.”

Harold’s jaw dropped.

Shaw turned to Root, who was smiling coquettishly up at her. “Alright, I know you said you’d come quietly, but I barely know you and I don’t believe you, so you’ll chew on this.”

Shaw pulled out a gag from the security equipment bag and coaxed Root to open her mouth.

“Wow, getting started on the bondage already? My maiden heart is scandali—mphf.”

“Yea, yea,” Shaw said nonchalantly, fastening the gag band at the back of Root’s head. “Save it from when I’m asleep and can’t hear you.”

Root glared petulantly, and unimpressed, at Shaw.

“Reese, put the blindfold on her. Can’t have her memorizing the layout of the facility as we make our way out.”

Root rolled her eyes, before everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, here we are, Casa de Shaw,” Shaw said drily, slipping the blindfold loose from the wavy-haired brunette’s eyes and waving her hand once at her empty-looking apartment.

There was only a kitchen, a living room, and one bedroom—containing only a bed, night table, and laptop—along with one bathroom.

Root walked in with a light smile, hands still handcuffed, taking a cursory survey of the apartment. She turned to Shaw and said with a brighter smile, “Tu casa es mi casa?”

“Over your dead body,” Shaw said dully. “You’re, at best, a guest.”

“And at worst?” Root asked mirthfully.

“A pest,” easily replied Shaw.

“But I’m _your_ little pest, now,” Root asserted teasingly.

Shaw’s eye twitched. “Don’t.”

“What? No pet names? That’s the inevitable eventuality of a couple in a relationship, y’know,” Root remarked cheekily.

“What relationship?” Shaw asked pointedly.

“Fine,” Root relented, making a show of shrugging. “Courtship.”

“ _Claiming_ ,” Shaw corrected testily.

Courtship had romantic undertones that Shaw had no interest in pursuing. Claiming, on the other hand, only indicated that the Dominant was in the process of entering into a partnership with a Submissive. Whether this claiming had friendly, familial, professional, or romantic connotations was dependent upon the two individuals involved.

Root rolled her eyes good-naturedly before panning her gaze across the blatantly barren apartment once again.

“I like it. It really reflects your personality.”

“Thanks…” Shaw narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I think.”

“So, shall I make myself at home?” Root inquired breezily, walking all the way in and heading for the bedroom.

When she received no response, Root turned back to meet Shaw’s indifferent eyes as the short raven-haired woman dropped Root’s purple duffel bag onto the beige carpeted floor with an unceremonious _plop_.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to bring that in, but do you think you could maybe move that into this room right over—“

“—here is where you’ll be sleeping.”

Root took a closer look at “here”—the corner formed by the vertical intersection of two plain white walls.

“Aw, come on, don’t joke around like that,” simpered Root with a cutesy tilt of her head. “I mean, I know I’m technically a Submissive now, but that hardly calls for you to treat me like a child at time out.”

“First of all, I don’t joke,” Shaw said impassively. “And second of all, I’m not putting you in the corner like a child at time out. The corner is for putting your stuff; I’ll give you some blankets and a pillow and you’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oops, sorry, my bad, not treating me like a child, but a dog,” Root quipped with a wry smile. “That’s better.”

“That’s not true,” Shaw said. “I don’t give dogs pillows.”

Root looked at Shaw incredulously.

Shaw cleared her throat awkwardly. “The carpeted floor is actually not that bad. I slept on the floor for a year when I first moved in, but then when the lady in the neighboring apartment found out, she gave me her old mattress before she moved out. I didn’t need it, but since I had it, I figured out I may as well use it.”

Root ambled over to where Shaw was located at the corner of the living room, and made a show to deeply sink her boot heels into the floor. “Well, then, if it makes no difference to you, how about a little switcheroo? I get the mattress and you get the floor?”

Shaw arched her eyebrow challengingly and opened her mouth to respond before Root spoke again.

“Of course, I do know how to compromise. I will still take the living room. I’m just saying, I get to bring the mattress out here.”

Shaw quickly closed her mouth, looked towards her bedroom, then down at the floor, before lifting her gaze to meet Root’s and nodding.

“Do as you wish,” Shaw said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s all the same to me.”

“I’m so glad we have an understanding,” Root chirped amusedly. “Oh, and while we’re at it, do you think you could please remove my handcuffs, now? They’re getting a bit scratchy on my wrists.”

Shaw stared at her.

Root encouragingly motioned her wrists towards her.

Shaw stared at Root, apathetically looked down at Root’s wrists, and then reached for a key in her back pocket before closing the distance between herself and Root and beginning to unlock the handcuffs.

As Shaw began to work, Root took this time to make for some small talk. “So now that we’re starting this whole claiming process, what would you like me to address you as from now on? Here, I’ve thought of a few—Miss Shaw? Mistress Shaw? Milady Shaw? Madame Shaw? Mademoiselle Shaw? My One, My Only, My Everlasting-Sweetie-Hyper-Mega-Ultra-Super-Cutie-Honey-Forever-Lurve Soulmate?”

Shaw’s head sharply shot up.

She grimaced. Spectacularly.

Root drank her in, blinking, appearing confused. “Oh, did you not like it? Was it the last one? What was bad about it? Was it the “my one, my only”? Yeah, you’re right, that did sound repetitive…”

Shaw continued to look disturbed.

Root blinked. “Oh… wait, so not that one? Was it the “honey”? Oh, are you allergic?”

Shaw facepalmed. “Listen, uh, Root…”

Root extended her index finger at Shaw like she had just figured it out. “Oh, I get it! Would you like me to replace all those options, but with your first name? I realize in retrospect calling you by your last name does sound a bit impersonal for lovers, partners, and soulm—!”

“—DON’T say the S word.”

“Sheesh,” Root remarked at the dramatics, then realized she said an S word. “Shit, sorry, Shaw.” Root cringed internally again. “So seems, somehow, subconsciously—“

“Shut up.”

“Sure!”

Shaw’s eye twitched. Yup, she landed a bratty one. She released a calming exhale carefully through her nose before saying, “I meant, the “Soulmate” S word. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Your wish is my command, My. One. My. Only. My Ever—“

“NO.”

“You didn’t let me finish. I wasn’t going to say soulmate at the end! I was going to show you the change.” Root sighed in exasperation. “Now I have to start over—My. One. My—“

“Must you say it so weird and slow like that?”

“Yes, I do. My claimer’s master name should be enunciated with a buildup of suspense, breathy emphasis, dripping devotion, explosive _passion_ —!”

“—Okay, I will stop you right there. I meant NO, as in, I will not give you a pet name, and you will not give me a master name.”

Root blinked, affecting a pout. “Why not? We’re doing this whole claiming thing, aren’t we?”

“Two things: one, don’t ever bring up the soulmate thing again, I never wanted one, and still don’t. Two, I don’t actually plan on claiming you, I just agreed with Finch in order to appease him and snag the raise.”

Root remained silent, then clucked her tongue, impressed. “Cunning. I expected no less from my soulmate.”

Shaw frowned. “What did I just say—?”

“—If you’re not claiming me, then I’m under no obligation to obey you, now, am I?” Root drawled with a smirk.

It was now Shaw’s turn to clamp her mouth shut and arch a brow, impressed. “Touché.”

Root smirk toned down to a disarmingly friendly smile. “Well, I am glad you’ve made your intentions clear… Shaw. Is that what you’d prefer?”

“I’d prefer,” Shaw said with her arms crossed, not missing a beat.

_So much for prompting a formal introduction_ , Root thought to herself in amusement at Shaw’s lack of forthcomingness on her first name.

Root inclined her head in an acceding gesture before continuing, “I also have no intention of being claimed by anyone, although… you probably already know that as well as a couple of other things about me, seeing how you were present at the ward with other individuals involved in my case.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Shaw said drily. “When a technical specialist goes rogue and steals advanced technology of interest to homeland security and nearly goes public with said technology, thereby committing an act of treason against the United States, and gets her status demoted from Dominant to Submissive, which has only happened a handful of times in recorded history, and somehow manages to refuse and fight off any attempts at a claiming made on her… word gets around the police academy.”

“That was a rather lengthy summation for someone that claims not to know much about me,” Root said impishly.                     

“It’s hard not to get the overview when everyone and their mother won’t shut up about it,” Shaw said in a bored monotone.

Root blinked. “Now that you mention it, how many people know about me? You know, the whole ‘wanted for treason’ thing?”

“It’s knowledge restricted to a select few, actually,” Shaw explained. “Mainly high-ranking law enforcement and military personnel in the New York area.”

“But you just said that everyone and their mother—?”

“—some idiot insider must have leaked the classified information and now it’s all over the police academy. Fortunately, it was very basic information. They have no idea what the technology in question is. If they did, word would inevitably get out to civilians, then to the social networks, and finally, the whole world would know. Your punishment would have been far more severe if that had been the case.”

Root adopted a casually defiant pose in response. “And what could be worse than being forced to switch designations?”

“I can guarantee you,” Shaw said vaguely, “there are worse things.”

Root paused to stare at Shaw searchingly, before deciding to return the topic to something less tense. “So, what do you have to do with any of this? Well, aside from the obvious.” Root drew an “S” in the air cheekily.

Shaw ignored her gesticulation and said, “I’m an instructor at the police academy—that’s my day job. If my assistance is needed on any special cases, then I usually juggle that along with being an instructor, or if the special case is too extensive, then I’m relieved from my duties as instructor until I have accomplished my mission regarding the special case.”

“So, in short, I was a special case?” Root asked, placing a palm on her chest and acting touched.

“For lack of a better word,” Shaw said. “Robert Sierra is a public figure of great global importance. They wanted the best officers to be guarding him.”

“Ah, then I suppose that explains your presence,” Root said in comprehension.

“It was supposed to be a one-hour assignment,” Shaw said, her voice coated with almost undetectable irritation. “But, as you can see, it’s turned into… whatever this is.”

“Love finds us when we least expect it,” Root said sagely.

Shaw glared.

Root raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I didn’t say the S word.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and stepped away, heading for her bedroom. “I’ll help you move the mattress. After that, you can do whatever you want, so long as you stay out of my way. I think you’ll find this arrangement to be mutually beneficial.”

Root smiled wickedly. “Are you sure? I can do _whatever_ I want? Because I have _so many_ ideas for making this apartment look much cozier—“

“We’ll establish some house rules to follow later,” Shaw grinded out through gritted teeth.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to try and dominate me?” Root said with a sly grin and an arched brow.

“It’s not called domination, but basic decency,” Shaw smoothly retorted. “You’re a guest at this apartment, and I expect you to follow the house rules accordingly.”

“Certainly, Ms. Shaw,” Root said with a mischievous grin, slightly inclining her head in acknowledgement.

“Just ‘Shaw,’” Shaw reminded stubbornly, bothered by the Master name. “And don’t do that,” she added, referring to the head incline that Submissives tended to perform when acknowledging another person. Dominants tended to flick their head upward in order to acknowledge another person. “You’re a Dominant.”

Root’s head shot up in surprise. It had been several months since anyone had truly referred to her under that designation. Months of being faced with potential claimer after potential claimer, all trying so dastardly hard to try and get her to submit, took a physical, not to mention psychological, toll on her person.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been called that in the present tense,” Root remarked after getting over the momentary stupefaction.

“A man-made re-branding doesn’t change who you are,” Shaw uttered with her back turned to Root. “You were born with the mark of the Dominant, and that is who you naturally are and always will be.”

Root wore a blank expression for a moment as she processed the shorter woman’s words, before a tentative smile broke out on her face. She blinked rapidly in order to get rid of a pesky sheen that was beginning to form over her eyes, and licked her lips before speaking again. “Well, then, while we’re on that logic, how about we broach those… Perpetual Partner tattoos?”

Shaw stiffened. “What did I say about—?”

“I’m not using the S word!”

“Don’t get hung up on technical—“

“You said not to talk about the S thing… so, I’m talking about the Perpetual Partner thing,” Root clarified breezily. “Can’t backtrack now, Shaw. You believe in the designation marks but not in the tattoos? That’s rather hypocritical of you.”

“I will not be insulted in my hom—“

“You’re deflecting,” Root noted in a sing-song voice.

Shaw huffed. “We’re still not discussing it.”

Root rolled her eyes. “Well, can I at least see it? I mean, I already know we ‘naturally are and always will be’ Perpetual Partners, but it’s always nice to get visual confirmation.”

Shaw burrowed into and hugged her dark coat closer to her. “No.”

Root pouted. “Don’t be a grouch.”

“No,” Shaw muttered.

Root grinned. “I bet it must have been super funny to have that phrase tattoed on you, huh?”

“More like demeaning,” Shaw grumbled out. “No self-respecting Dominant would allow their Submissive to speak to them that way. I was wondering what kind of idiotically gutsy brat I was going to end up with if that was the first thing they were going to say to me.”

“But you’re so… smol,” Root said with a joking, semi-patronizing tilt of her head.

“For _years_ I had been planning to shank the impudent punk to their knees and stomp them flat into the prostate position before me,” Shaw recounted dangerously. She met Root’s eyes meaningfully. “I still plan.”

Root smiled innocently. “Weeell….plans change? Your first words to me also weren’t exactly the most… encouraging.”

“Good,” Shaw said plainly.

“They slightly killed my self-esteem when I was younger.”

“Yours killed my reputation.”

“Well, clearly, damage was done on both ends, what do you say? Forgive and forget?”

“Relive and revenge.”

Root blinked and chuckled. “You’ve got a rather sadistic streak about you. I can see why you’re a Dominant.”

Shaw scrunched her nose up in a grimace. “I’m no Sadist. D/s is a way of life… S&M is an absurd sexual fetish.”

“Urrghh, those sick fetishists,” Root said distractedly. “Anyway, back to the Perpetual Partner tattoos…”

“Do you really have to call it that? It sounds like the name of some Prime Life Insurance coverage or something…”

“Shall we go back to Soul—?”

“Never.”

“Alright, how about Forever Gal Pals?”

“Sounds too much like a new Barbie & Friends product collection.”

“Hmm, Ceaseless Comrades?”

“Too awkward.”

“Las Dos Bandidas?”

“Too telenovela.”

“Eternal Accomplices.”

“Too suspicious.”

“Boundless Buddies?”

“Too cute.”

“Continuous Chums?”

“Too cereal-box.”

“Soul Matey?”

“Too piratey.”

“Transcendental Spouses.”

“Ok. Too much. Let’s stop.”

“But we haven’t settled on—“

“Roommates.”

“Everlasting Roomma—?”

“Just. Roommates.”

Root shrugged. “We can start there.”

“We can stay there.”

“For now.”

“Forever.”

Root grinned playfully. “Then, technically, we _are_ everlasting roommates.”

Shaw’s eye twitched. She didn’t get herself a little brat. She got herself a little troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thank you all for your comments, since so many of you wanted to see a continuation, I went ahead and planned a plot for this story (originally, I had nothing beyond the first meeting). But I've been a fan of the D/s universe for a while, and I'm excited to show you this fascinating world!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. It keeps me motivated to write even after I'm tired from studying so much. Also, if you see any typos, please let me know in the comments so I can correct! You guys are my beta readers basically ha ha


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